


Back for More

by TheWaitingFangirl



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Bars and Pubs, CUZ IT IS, Drinking, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, can i be honest and say this was probably the best sex scene i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 23:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15399831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWaitingFangirl/pseuds/TheWaitingFangirl
Summary: “Shay,” you quirked an eyebrow at him and he offered you a haughty grin. “You’re back? I thought you were out on business—”“Aye,” he huffed, accent thick on his tongue as he pushed his way inside and walked backwards towards the bar. “In for a pint or five, shorty? Kenway had me strung up all night n’ I really need to get a drink before Patrick’s over.”





	Back for More

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested at my tumblr @brohood-assassins-imagines
> 
> I'M STILL AROUND YOU FUCKERS
> 
> Also, take this smut *throws porn at you all* please, let me enjoy my video games now..............

“Oi! I hope you’re not forgetting ‘bout good ol’ Eamon ‘ere, eh?,” one of the oldest patrons called joyfully, raising his glass and booming a laughter that overlapped the pleasantries of the music, a ecstatic cacophony that you were well acquainted with. “Fill this bastard up!”

“You’ll still close the doors of this place, I’m telling you!,” you jested, letting go of the cloth and grabbing the bottle of whiskey on the shelves behind to make your way towards him. “How’s little Pete?,” you asked nonchalantly and poured him a generous amount, winking as he shrugged and scooped the glass up and took a sip.

“Fine, fine,” he said with a self-pleased fatherly grin. “Just got his acceptance letter, my boy. Going to college, can you believe that?,” Eamon shook his head and put down the glass on the counter as your braced on it and he leaned in. “Little Pete, a lawyer. Still can’t bloody get used to it.” He scratched on his ginger beard thoughtfully.

You nodded, tapping his shoulder as a smile spread on your lips. “Proud papa, are you now?”

Eamon scoffed, massive hand picking the glass up once again. “Oh, fuck off you.”

Laughing soundly over the chit-chatter, you screwed the bottle shut and put it back; the green and white decorations of the bar only spurring people on drinking more and singing louder than any regular night. St. Patrick’s Day was good for business, your father had always said and you couldn’t help but agree. There was always more time for drinking, always more space in the pubs of the city as the streets swarmed with locals and tourists vacationing; which were always welcomed by shopkeepers, yourself included.

The family pub had always had a decent amount of regulars, most of which you knew ever since being a girl — not like your father didn’t help out by bringing you along when you begged and pleaded to take you with him, mostly because you  _knew_  you’d be rewarded with sweets for good behavior and “helping out” by keeping an eye on the register with the ever so watchful gaze of your father behind. So yes, the income was good and, sure, business had its ups and downs, as any place really, but St. Patrick’s never failed to make ends meet in any situation; even more so because most of the tourists would linger around to savor their vacancy.

The night stretched, hours busily passing ticking by as the holiday brought more and more people than the usual; not like you’d complain. Slowly, but steadily, people started walking away as the singing died out and mostly everyone hanged around waiting for the St. Patrick’s Day parade to end to they could go home — mostly the older customers, Eamon and Thomas with Aidan, nursing their glasses and giggling quietly as they drawing out the celebration for as long as they could. You had no doubt they’d stop by a convenience, if they managed to find any open, to buy more drinks on the way home. Glancing at your wristwatch — a quarter past two —, you made your way towards the local band who agreed to play at your place today.

You paid them up — they weren’t a big thing really, the vocalist was a guy who also played a guitar another one who’d play the drums and a girl with the bass — and thanked them for making it last minute, seeing them off just as a familiar face peeked around the front door.

“Shay,” you quirked an eyebrow at him and he offered you a haughty grin. “You’re back? I thought you were out on business—”

“Aye,” he huffed, accent thick on his tongue as he pushed his way inside and walked backwards towards the bar. “In for a pint or five, shorty? Kenway had me strung up all night n’ I really need to get a drink before Patrick’s over.”

Closing the door, you rolled your eyes and trailed behind him, sliding behind the counter as he took a seat in front of you and greeted the remaining people. “Technically, it’s already over and you missed the party, lover boy.”

Shay tsked at you and knocked on the counter jokingly as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m paying and planning on drinking to his memory, stop naggin’ at my arse, will you?”

“Kenway’s gonna be the death of you, my friend,” you muttered under your breath to make sure the others wouldn’t hear as you reached back to a beverage fridge. “He’s pushing you like a bloody race horse, is what I think. Haven’t seen you in almost two months—”

“The money’s good, ‘right? And I’m back now. I couldn’t leave my best friend thinkin’ I was dead in some ditch,” Shay joked as he waved his hand at you dismissively, taking the bottle you put on the counter and turning it to inspect the label. “Guinness? We goin’ fancy now? Where’d you get these?,” he asked with a teasing note as he brought the bottle down and opened it using the hem of his t-shirt.

You shrugged nonchalantly, cracking your own drink open before taking a sip of it. “St. Patrick’s means special deliveries. I know some people, ‘s all.”

Shay’s eyebrows shot up and he fidgeted briefly with the sleeve of his leather jacket, giving you a naughty grin. “Shorty’s got contacts, huh? Add up the brit accent and you’ll sound just like Haytham,” he teased with lips pressed to the tip of the bottle, slowly rubbing it against the smooth skin before taking a sip and you fought to tear your eyes away from the motion.

He was your best friend, yes, but things  _could_  get awkward sometimes, starting with the fact that Shay was actually  _handsome_  — in a rugged and harsh way, yes, with dark brown eyes that matched his black hair  _just so_ —, shoulders  _ridiculously_  broad and  _the accent, god—_

Kicking yourself at the turn your things in your mind, you took another sip of your drink, watching out of the corner of your eye as a group of people got up and ready to leave.

Yeah, it got  _pretty_ awkward sometimes.

You had known each other for a long time now — somewhere from middle school. You couldn’t be sure, since there wasn’t really a point where you  _remember_  befriending him; it’s like he had just sprouted in the garden of your life and you decided to keep him there.

Shay smiled at you, his expression somewhat tired — from work, you supposed —, but still pleased. His eyes drifted briefly towards the counter as he put the bottle down. “This week was a total nightmare, I’m tellin’ you,” he shook his head and scoffed, “he’s a complete sociopath, love. Like, wish I was kiddin’, y’know? But I’m dead serious.”

You looked away, pressing your lips against the bottle’s rim. “I told you so, you stupid git.”

“Aye, you did, but let me tell you ‘bout today. Remember the Lee guy? Mr. Kenway’s  _most_  eager fan, the—“

“The moustache one?,” you grimaced, remembering him and how you had compared the thing on his face to a dead rat.

“Atta, girl,” Shay’s dark eyes sparked with mischief as he idly sipped his drink before continuing. “So, I was doin’ my usual thing, yeah? Running ‘round like a damn fool and Lee appeared out of thin air, like a fuckin’ spirit…”

And grinned at him, eyes squeezing into tiny slits as he carried on. He  _did_  look happy telling you about things and you just loved how  _excited_  he always looked when he had something new or funny to share, like an eager child who came back from school ready to spit all sorts of knick-knacks at everyone who crossed their path. You listened eagerly, nodding and laughing, making acid comments that Shay wasn’t smart enough to think of alone —  _but you are always so smart,_  he commented with a scoff. A beer turned into two, then three as the remaining people — mostly Eamon and his friends — gathered their things and dragged their feet out the front door and, checking your wristwatch — nearly 3:30 AM —, you decided it was time to lock up and go home.

“D’you want me to walk you back to your place?,” Shay asked after turning the lights off, following you to the back as you fumbled with the keys. “It’s late.”

“Uh, yeah,” you frowned, searching for the one to lock the backdoor. “That’d be nice, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t,” he gave you a crooked smile, hooking an arm around your neck to ruffle your hair before you could finally lock up and call it a night.

The night’s air was brisk and cold, raising little goosebumps on your skin as you walked back to your flat. It wasn’t really that far to be honest, but still a good walk until you could get home, and that was as much as you could manage, truly; there was hardly much time left with the pub to be taken care of. “I hate it when I forget my coat,” you sighed in good nature, turning to Shay with a bat of eyes.

“Yeah? A pity, isn’t it?,” he grinned down at you and raised his brows when you bumped your shoulder to his. “What?”

“Give me yours, c’mon. I’m your best friend,” you pleaded in good nature, already tugging the leather jacket off his shoulders with a fit of giggles as he complied.

“Sometimes I think you’re spoiled rotten, y’know. You always get your way,” Shay helped you shrug the warm jacket on — and  _god_ , he smelled  _so good_ , like sandalwood and leather and something citric you couldn’t quite place your finger on —, and you could cross your heart and hope to die you felt his fingers rest against your shoulders a little longer than necessary.

“It’s not like you can’t say no,” you teased halfheartedly, thankful for the coolness hiding the pinkish blush of your face. Shay turned his gaze to you, grey shirt only making his shoulders look all the more inviting and something in his eyes told you that it was a lie and he really didn’t have a choice, and before you could say something else—

“So,” Shay started, looking forward and hooking his thumbs to his front pockets. “How’re things with…” he made a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat, chuckling right after and throwing you a humored look. “I never remember his name, sorry.”

Oh.

Well.

“Nathan.” You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant even though your shoulders tensed. “And it’s fine, you know. It didn’t work out, so… I don’t think you’ll have to remember his name, anyways.”

“Oh,” Shay breathed out, looking over at you so fast that his neck might’ve as well snapped. “I’m sorry to hear that. D’you want to… talk ‘bout it?”

Not like talking about the guy you were dating — not like a  _real_  thing, just… you didn’t even know — with your best friend felt like a weird thing, truly, it was what most friendships consisted of, the backbone of something healthy and nice but—

It’s not like everyone is in love with their best friend, neither.

So it couldn’t work out because, mainly, you weren’t willing to put up an effort. It wasn’t like Nathan was a bad guy, no, he took you to the movies and you would have dinner together sometimes, but… He wasn’t Shay.

And that really bothered you.

“No,” you scoffed, peeking at him from the corner of your eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal. More like a fling.”

There was a tense silence that stretched for a few seconds and you swallowed thickly, gnawing at the inside of your cheek until Shay piped up. “I see. But if you need to talk—“

“How’s Hope?,” you cut in, eager to get away from the subject.

He chuckled at nothing in particular, scratching at his neck and you shot him a curious look. Shay and Hope had dated for a little more than a year — which was one of the main reasons why you’d never tried anything, because you  _knew_  Hope and she was  _nice_  and all, but… Yeah. It wasn’t like you were about to ruin something good for him just because you wanted to be selfish, but they had been fighting so much lately and—

“Yeah,” he muttered bashfully. “It’s not a thing, not anymore. Guess we’re both fucked up, yeah?”

You weren’t sure about him, but—

About you?

Definitely.

“Don’t worry,” you smirked at him with a teasing lilt in your voice and tried push something you could only identify as uneasiness down. “If all turns to shit we can still elope and raise goats in the mountains.”

“Sounds like a plan, shorty.” He retorted with a grin.

You huffed out a laugh, climbing the steps of the building before calling over your shoulder, “I told you to quit calling me that, you git.” Shay followed you up the stairs, casually leaning against the threshold as you worked the door open and shoot him a nervous glance. “But… you know that I’m here if you want to talk about that, right?”

“Aye, I do.” He pressed his head back against the wall, looking up without really focusing on anything. “It just wasn’t meant to be. Work stuff. She couldn’t agree with any of it, hated the trips, so we decided it was better to split up. Not like we both hadn’t seen it coming, y’know? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t waiting.”

You nodded thoughtfully, throwing your door open and moving in, stopping when Shay didn’t follow you. “Come, have something to eat with me. I have strawberry juice and…” you wiggled your eyebrows, “hot pockets.”

With a raise of his brows, he stared back at you with a charming grin. “Sounds like a sleepover. Is it a sleepover?”

Scoffing, you changed your weight from one foot to another and gave him your best shit eating grin. “Maybe it is. Maybe we’re 9 again.”

Shay walked in slowly, letting the door slip shut as he got nearer to you and the stairs — your apartment was on the first floor. “When you say it like that,” his voice dropped a few octaves when he got closer and now you  _definitely_  couldn’t blame it on the cold. “I guess…  _last one there is a rotten egg_.”

You blinked.

And just when you were about to open your mouth to reply, Shay took off sprinting up, running towards your door with a loud cackle and you laughed at the sheer absurdity of it, trying to keep up with him and pulling at his shirt when you got closer to wrestle him out of your way. He caught you by the neck, hooking his arm around it and ruffling your hair again and you yelped happily, shoving your hands on his sides.

“Cheater!” You yelled, twisting your way out of his grip when it loosened and ran to your door, but Shay grabbed your hand still laughing and groaning about being hungry as you jiggled your way into the small apartment.

“I wasn’t the one pushing and pulling—“

“Liar,” you chanted over his voice, opening the door and immediately kicking your sneakers off. “You cheated first.”

Shay pulled his shoes off and scoffed, going to the kitchen and you followed after turning the lights on, already shrugging the jacket from off of your shoulders when he commented, “you better not be planning on stealing it. I really like that jacket.”

Rolling your eyes, you put it over the counter and turned to him with your best judgy face. “Why are you so selfish, Shay?”

He smirked at you and crossed his arms, casually leaning against the fridge. It was…  _ridiculous_  how he managed to be even taller than your own fridge. “I learned with the best.”

You fidgeted awkwardly, wiggling your toes before asking. “Are you back for good now?”

Shay half-smiled, shooting you a look so  _soft_  you thought you’d melt right then and there. “I suppose I am, aye. Not entirely sure, but for the time being…” he trailed off.

Nodding a little begrudgingly, you scratched your chin slowly. “I missed you,” you confessed, looking nervously at him before finishing, “just a bit. Don’t get cocky.” Shay snorted a laugh, pushing off of the fridge and coming towards you with confident casualty.

“Oh, no. Don’t worry, ‘ready cocky for nature,” he said teasingly, wrapping you in his arm and giving a little squeeze. His fingers tickled your shoulders as they played with the patch of exposed skin there and you wanted to be embarrassed, hell, you  _should_  be embarrassed, but it all felt so… familiar.  _Like coming home after a long day_ , you decided — so you sighed and rested your head on his side. “I missed you too, shorty. Nobody there laughs at my jokes. It was hell.”

“That’s because your jokes are bad,” you muttered quietly to no one in particular. The tile felt cold under your feet and there was only the living room light filtering through the open door of the kitchen and it was nearly 4a.m., but you didn’t care. It felt good to have him back.

Shay hummed thoughtfully like he wanted to say something else but stayed silent. Looking up at him, you caught his gaze and held it for an excruciatingly long second. You could  _feel_  his breathing against your cheeks in the half-light and how firm his shoulder was and how his eyes now gazed down at your lips while his own parted  _and—_

When he leaned down, you didn’t stop him.

The kiss was soft and tentative, a quick and chaste press of lips to see if you’d bolt and push him away, but you stayed in place; eyes closed and breathing held as he pressed in again and sighed. You frowned at the gentle swipe of tongue, and distantly registered the tartness of beer and tobacco, the velvety softness of his lips and the scruff of stubble on your cheek as his hand carefully cradled your face and  _all the gentleness_ of it—

It was surreal, really. Mostly because things like these only happened in books and movies and not to real-actual people who were in love with their best friend since  _high school_  and had longed for the impossible moment where something —  _anything_ , really — would happen, but you weren’t about to complain, even though your heart drummed wildly against your ribcage and your hands felt clammy and you probably smelled like a fucking bar and—

“Shay,” you called in a plea, a breathiness you didn’t know you possessed in your voice as he hummed and kissed his way down your jaw and neck before settling to your collarbone and dragging his lips against the exposed skin there. You carded your fingers through his thick hair, finally reaching his jaw and dragging him back because  _fuck,_ you needed him to kiss you again, just to make  _sure_  it’s not just a feverish dream fuelled by sleep deprivation and caffeine and he complied and pressed your body against the counter with his.

It was sweet and careful, playful in a way as you both tried to hold a laugh in between kissing until you failed. “Wow,” you whispered as the warmth of embarrassment crept to your cheeks.

Shay huffed a breath of laughter before agreeing, “wow.” He nudged your nose with his and one hand slid down to hold on at your shoulder and you could swear you felt dizzy at the sudden change of dynamics and you could  _feel_  the wetness starting to pool between your legs because — as much as you hated to admit it — yes, you wanted, no,  _needed_  him.

Badly.

Hooking your fingers at the loops of his jeans, you pulled Shay closer by the hips and he put a leg in between yours and you sighed and  _melted_  because Shay groaned and pressed more insistently against the side of your thigh. Tentatively, you rocked against him, groaning in mild displeasure as your own jeans numbed most of the sensation the closeness offered because it was unbelievably  _good_  and  _unfair_  at the same time and you tried again, a bit more forcefully this time—

Shay gasped into your mouth, a tiny and almost choked out, “fuck,” as his hips rolled against your body and you felt the stiffness of his erection, hot and hard, below the thick fabric of his pants.

You hummed, the edge of a whimper in your voice, as your hands pressed to the grey fabric of his t-shirt, palms curling as you felt his own hands slide downwards as well, brushing the swell of your breasts briefly to finally toy with the button of your jeans. “I’m not drunk,” you heard Shay mutter quietly against your ear. “Are you?”

Smiling, partly because you had been so afraid to speak that it would somehow ruin the moment and because yes, the reassurance was good and welcomed, you cupped his face; thumb idly tracing the line of the scar below his left eye as you shook your head, “me neither.”

Shay pulled away for an instant, looking down at you so you could meet his gaze — and you had to admit, he looked even more handsome with puffy lips. Nodding ever so slightly, as if approving of something, he smirked and you blushed to an even darker shade of crimson at the way his dark eyes gleamed in the half-light of the kitchen, hands roaming down to your pants. “I guess we’re not having hot pockets and strawberry juice anymore, huh?,” you managed with a sigh and your hips canted towards his warm touch, making Shay chuckle and cock his head at you.

“Can still go back to that if you want,” he offered, thumbs digging ever so slightly at the exposed skin of your waist. “No hard feelings.”

“Do you want to?,” you asked defiantly.

“Do you?”

No. It was so incredibly obvious you didn’t want to that you couldn’t help but scoff at his question, at the sheer absurdity of stopping  _now_. “No, not really.”

With a satisfied grin, Shay worked the buttons of your jeans open and you helped him shimmy it down with a sense of urgency you couldn’t remember  _ever_  experiencing and he pressed his clothed thigh between your legs and pulled your body closer to his  _and—_

“Shay,” you whispered under your breath, echoing your own mind, because everything felt exquisite and exciting and  _wonderfully new_ —

With a held back groan, Shay pressed his lips to the crook of your neck, hips bucking forward to try and gain friction and you could feel how terribly hard he was and everything you could think of, besides how unreal it all felt, as if watching yourself in a dream, was that it had  _never_  felt so good before. Never so sweet, never so right. “Why haven’ we done this before?,” Shay asked with a hint of humor in his voice and you couldn’t help but laugh at it.

“Because we’re both stupid,” you offered quietly, cupping his face in your hands for a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and passion, helpless to stop the rocking of your hips against his leg still pressed between yours. “My room, let’s go there.”

Shay scoffed a bit, pecking you at the lips and pulling away when you tried to deepen it. “Already trying to get into my pants, are ya?”

Laughing out of embarrassment, you smacked his shoulder playfully. “You’re the worst, Cormac.”

“I’ve been told,” he rasped with a sultry voice, breath ghosting over the delicate skin behind your ear. “You’re serious about it?”

Sighing, you combed your fingers through his thick hair once again, letting your hand rest at the back of his neck. Always with the second thoughts. “ _Please_.”

Shay’s fingers dug into the flesh of your hips and his breathing quickened. “I was never able to say ‘no’ to you, y’know?”

“Are you plannin’ on starting now?,” you almost  _whimpered_  at him, closing your eyes and letting your hips move more insistently against his body because, God, it just wasn’t enough, no, not even  _close_  to—

“I want you,” Shay confessed quietly, following your lead and pushing back with more force than intended and he just gasped as softly as he could with your fingernails scratching at the base of his neck. “ _Fuck—_ “

If you were being honest, you felt so fucking  _dirty_  doing this, humping against your best friend’s leg in the middle of your kitchen like some horny teenager in a hurried love tryst before someone’s parents got home. It was like every wet dream all at once, good, almost too good to be true, and you nearly yelped when Shay gathered you in his arms and urged you to cross your legs around his waist, his cock  _hot_  and  _hard—_

There weren’t really any words — not like anything could explain, so you just ground your hips against his as he stumbled his way in the narrow corridor towards the only bedroom available in the place, bed creaking under your weight. If it were up to him, you knew, it’d take too long and you wanted— you  _needed_  it right fucking now, so you pushed his chest down at the mattress. Satisfied that he’d obeyed you, you got on your feet with one of his knees between your legs as you finished getting rid of your jeans and panties in one go.

As soon as you sat on his lap, his hands kneaded at your thighs, eyes never leaving yours. There wasn’t time for an appreciative hum as you bent down and teased a kiss from him; face flushing when you felt the way his cock poked at your thigh at every little movement you made. “So fuckin’ eager to get into my pants,” Shay whispered between kisses as he pushed your shirt upwards, “wouldn’t even buy me a dinner first—“

“I bought you a drink,” you snapped, groaning in pleasure when he bit at the skin below your neck, “it’s already more than you deserve if you ask me.”

Shay chuckled at your jabbing, instead focusing on getting your bra open — you knew you should’ve picked something sexier for today, but it’s not like someone can predict when they’re gonna get laid with their  _best friend_  and at each time you repeated it in your mind, it just sounded more and more unbelievable. So, you just closed your eyes and held on to his shoulders when you felt his fingertips ghosting over your thighs.

His fingers are tentative and gentle,  _so soft_  it makes your heart throb almost painfully. You bite your lip, worrying it between teeth when Shay adds the slightest bit of pressure and his middle finger starts tracing smoothly against your entrance to check for wetness; and you could feel your cheeks heat up at the easy glide against your skin. “Shay,” you called under your breath, choking back a moan and he groaned something back,  _so wet, love, fuck_  and you could just  _feel_  your legs quiver at the low husk of his voice.

You gasped when he pushed in, a quiet and breathy sound, and Shay’s hips bucked up at your gentle rock against his hand, the soft puffs of hair from your breathing fanning hotly over his cheek. It wasn’t like you’ve never done it before — countless times, if you were to be honest, and no blushing virgin neither —, but it felt different because it was  _him_ , fingers thicker and roughened as they slowly brushed your clit and slid  _in_  and—

“Fuck,” Shay muttered pressing his face against your neck and making a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and you took the chance to cradle his face against your body, scratching and holding at the back of his neck as he trembled and groaned, turning his face to tease the sensitive skin with his lips, licking a slow stripe along your neck to come at end near your ear and you  _shiver_. “I’m sorry, love— I promise, I’ll have you screaming when I eat you out, but I need— Please, let me…”

You let out a low keening sound, nodding frantically as Shay pulls his hand away, palm giving one last squeeze to your hip and bum before fumbling with his belt and trousers, pushing them down hastily and you felt his hard cock pressing hotly to the inside of your thighs and— and—

When he pushes in, he does it slowly,  _so impossibly gently,_  you can feel your legs quiver and tremble from strain and desire as Shay finally eases your body against his.

And he  _gasps._

It’s like the sound is wrenched out of him against his will, eyes closing tightly and distress written all over his face as his hands fumble a bit over your body and he presses an open palm to your back, dark eyes gleaming in the darkness of the room as he looked up at you with something akin to  _adoration_. You sighed, soft and sweet between pants and heaves of breath, cupping his face and bringing his lips to yours for a hungry kiss; the burning sensation of being stretched and so wonderfully  _filled_  making you moan into his mouth.

Using his shoulders as leverage, you pulled away, gaining a displeased groan from Shay when he tried to follow your kisses. “It’s— this is fucking  _perfect_ ,” he whispered in a rushed voice and you combed your fingers through his hair. Letting your head fall sideways when he pressed a scorching hot kiss to the base of your neck, you rock your hips against his, the gentle movement slightly uncomfortable and satisfying all the same.

Shay’s hands found their way under your long-sleeved shirt, calloused fingers caressing your ribs, never going far enough to grab your breasts, but still enough to make your smaller body arch into his. “Shay,  _please_ —“

“Right here,” his voice came out with a ragged breath, brows knitting together as his eyes found yours and your hand cupped his face for a press of lips and he  _gasped_ , hips bucking up and pulling a broken moan from you and you can  _feel_  yourself starting to get lost into it but—

“Sorry,” Shay rasps lowly, stilling and resting his face to the crook of your neck and you could feel a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he peppered a few kisses up the column of your throat. He chuckled a bit, nuzzling into you. “You make it hard to focus.”

Shaking your head, you took a steadying breath and tried to ignore the  _need_  building between your legs, pressing a kiss to his temple and cheek, jaw and finally his lips, nibbling at it as his arms hugged you closer. “I can say the same about you. It’s not like you make it any easier, you know?”

With a crooked grin, Shay stared up at you, dark-brown eyes overwhelmingly  _soft_  with affection and his hair  _perfectly_  disheveled; and you leaned down, fluttering your eyes closed to press your face against his cheek, hips grinding against his. “It feels so— good,” you keened, pressing a kiss to his skin and one of his hands came down to squeeze your butt to goad you on, pace increasing ever so slightly as he panted against your collarbone.

Shay choked out your name — a breathiness and neediness you had never heard in his voice —, now rolling his hips up to meet your own with a sort of distressed groan, heaving harshly against your skin as his free hand tangled into your hair, not enough to hurt, but keeping you in place as he turned for a messy kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperation—

“ _God_ ,” you whimpered and your hands held on to Shay’s forearms, fingernails digging small crescent moons into his skin and his hips snap up against yours, rhythm faltering slightly as he panted again, groaning almost too loudly to bother the neighbors; the sound of your wetness enough to make you embarrassed and thankful for him pressing his face against your collarbone in sheer agony. “Please,  _please—_ I need—“

And as if reading your mind, he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes wide and  _wild_ searching for yours, color high on his sharp cheekbones and then it was too much, overwhelming as your closed your eyes, brows knitting together and a broken moan slipping from your lips as the heavenly bliss washed over — and Shay gave one, two,  _three_  more thrusts into you before stilling and shuddering as his hands grabbed at your skin, pulling you impossibly closer.

After what seemed ages, still riding the feeling, you opened your eyes slowly, almost lazily, and meet his half-lidded gaze. His lips were pinkish and puffy from biting and kissing, your breathing mingling together and he smiled, propping his legs up and you thankfully rested against them. Slowly, you reached out for his hand, receiving a loving squeeze back and Shay smiled fondly, fingers playing with yours as he shifted around so you could lie on your side.

With your head and thoughts pleasantly buzzed, you barely noticed when he pulled away for a moment and a soft fabric caressed the clammy skin between your thighs. Cracking your eyes open, you watched as he cleaned the worst of the mess with his bundled shirt, touch gentle enough to make you want to groan in embarrassment. Shay peeked at you, smiling sheepishly before discarding the shirt to the side of the bed. “Thanks,” you managed to say with a cracked voice.

He smiled back, leaning closer and fanning your hair out of your face. You hummed happily, nuzzling to his chest as you sighed in satisfaction and his hands drifted down to your shoulders and back. You could feel him fidget with himself, words tangled in his throat as he tried to broach the subject. “I— this isn’t just a sex thing, right?,” he inquired slowly, hands stilling on your back when you tried to look up at him. “Don’t want this… to be just that,” thumb brushing against your cheekbone, he waited for you to speak up and from this close you could feel his heart beating wildly.

Sighing, you closed your eyes, taking hold of his hand on your face and turned it to press a kiss to his palm. “It’s okay, me neither.”


End file.
